


all the plucked flowers

by sinequanon



Series: a series of surprisingly sad stiles stories [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Is Known, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Peter was six when he found his soulmate, and sixteen when he gave him up. He’s twenty-three when he gets his second chance.





	all the plucked flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I am 99.5% sure that I got the inspiration for this one from something else on this site, but I don’t have anything in my notes. So, if you wrote something in early 2016 that sort of sounds like this, give yourself a pat on the back for me, just in case.
> 
> This story has some racial undertones (specifically, discrimination against non-werewolves). Obviously, werewolves aren’t real, but take note if such things bother you.
> 
> (Also, this was hard to tag. You’ll see why.)

Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers  
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through  
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew  
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers,  
So, in the like name of that love of ours,  
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,  
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew  
From my heart’s ground.

—from “Sonnets from the Portuguese 44” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

<> <> <> <>

Peter Hale was six when he met his soulmate in the form of a tiny baby.

Confused by the strange tingly feeling he was suddenly having in his chest, he had deserted his class and followed the tingles all the way to Deputy Stilinski's house.

Mrs. Stilinski had taken one look at Peter standing dazedly on her doorstep and had invited him inside for cookies and milk while she called his mother. Never one to turn down cookies, Peter had stepped inside, only to zero in on the perfect, perfect baby who was watching him with golden eyes.

“Would you like to hold him?” the woman asked, and he forgot all about the cookies.

Years later, Peter would still be able to recall the moment his skin met Stiles's; how the tingling smoothed out into a rush of warmth that left Peter nearly boneless with pleasure, and how Stiles had latched onto him with all of the strength in his eight-month-old body and refused to let go for hours.

It was the best day of Peter's life.

<> <>

Life goes on, of course, and although Peter loved Stiles, by the time he was nine he was much more interested in spending time with his friends than with a toddler. The Stilinskis still visited, but as friends of Peter's parents rather than just potential in-laws.

By thirteen, Peter's friends had all but convinced him that having a human mate (even though mates were rare and considered precious) was something to be ashamed of, and Peter began loudly denying his connection to Stiles at every opportunity.

The hour-long lecture from his parents, the sour looks from his older siblings and their children, and glares from other residents of Beacon Hills taught him quickly to keep most of his opinions to himself.

When Peter was sixteen, a lightning strike burned most of the Hale house to the ground. No one was injured, but the pack was forced to relocate in the wake of the devastating loss. The Stilinskis were among the families that came to see the pack off, ten-year-old Stiles watching Peter solemnly from the treeline while Peter raged to his friends about the unfairness of the situation.

Already high on adrenaline, the teenager ignored everyone else in the yard—his family, his friends, their guests—and walked right up to Stiles, determined to end things once and for all.

“Look, I don't want you, okay?” he said flatly. He didn't want to hurt the kid, but he definitely needed to get rid of him, and he was too old now for this silly soulmate stuff anyway. “No one needs a human mate, anyway, so if you could just let me get on with my life, that would be perfect.”

Stiles's eyes welled up with tears, but all he said was, “Okay, Peter,” and walked away.

Peter felt so powerful in that moment that, for the rest of the day, he was almost able to entirely ignore the disappointment etched on his parents’ faces.

It wasn't until Peter accompanied his sister's family home again seven years later that he truly understood the consequences of his actions from that day.

<> <>

For the first time in a long time, Peter was at a loss. He was used to being calm, assured, and vicious when necessary. He had a reputation among the supernatural on the east coast, and he wasn't afraid to take advantage of it.

It wouldn't help him in this situation, though. The Hales had fallen out of touch with the Stilinskis after their first year in Vermont, and Peter's friends weren't exactly the type to keep up any type of correspondence, so the werewolf had no idea what kind of reception to expect in town.

It was a good thing that he lost touch with his friends, Peter knew now.  The new town had been home to a vampire-human mated pair, and they had helped Peter understand the gift that he had been given. In fact, Livinia had made him promise to bring Stiles to visit as soon as he got the younger boy to forgive him. The vampire had seemed certain that Stiles would forgive him eventually, but Peter was less sure.

He had no right to expect Stiles or his parents to speak to him, but he was going to push until Stiles either gave in or threatened to kill him; either one was possible, and the werewolf knew that his family had cheerfully voiced their predictions about the outcome of their first meeting with most being in open favor of the death threats.

Not to mention, his family would never forgive him if he screwed this up again; he was old enough to know better.

Almost immediately, Peter noticed that the Stilinski house seemed different, though he couldn't put his finger on why it seemed that way. Shaking off his unease, Peter knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

The sight of one of his old friends at the door was so unexpected that Peter stood there stammering until the other man invited him in. As it was, he numbly accepted the invitation inside and followed Tim into what used to be the Stilinski living room.

“Do you like what I've done with the place?” he asked, gesturing around to the sparse decor. “I got the place cheap after...well, you know.” He shrugged.

Actually, Peter _didn't_ know, but he was sure he wouldn’t like it. The wolf’s unease grew, even as he accepted the drink from his former friend and took a seat in a stylish, but largely uncomfortable, chair. “We lost touch with the Stilinskis years ago,” Peter admitted. “What happened?”

“Oh, they were killed, ‘bout three years ago,” Tim remarked blithely, obviously not picking up on Peter’s increasing distress. “Mom and Dad went out for the night, probably to get away from their annoying kid, and BAM,” he smacked the table, “truck hit ‘em. Killed the deputy instantly, but I heard that the mom choked to death on her own blood.” He took another sip of scotch and leaned back with a smile, as if satisfied with the outcome of the tale.

Peter felt his stomach drop, but his voice somehow remained steady. “And what about Stiles?”

Tim laughed, completely misreading the other wolf’s reaction. “Calm down, Cujo,” the other man assured him, “he’s not a problem anymore.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Well, the kid didn't have anybody to take him in after his parents died. We knew you didn’t want him,” he snickered, and Peter fought the urge to leap over the table between them, “so my dad kindly offered to take him in—being a good citizen and all—so he wouldn't be put in the system. The little bastard wasn't even grateful; went to the police and said that we were neglecting him, like he should have been treated like one of the pack or something.” The man scoffed. “The first time he tried to use magic against Dad, we threw him into a correctional center. That was over two years ago. With any luck, he’s a vegetable by now.”

Peter couldn't help but stare at the man before him and wonder how he’d ever been friends with anyone so heartless.

“What about the others?” he asked. How many of his former friends was he going to need to murder, exactly; that’s what he really wanted to know.

“Everybody else left for college, except for Bryce, who’s in prison for killing another werewolf who was beating up on his human wife or something. Such a waste.”

Peter needed to leave, now, before he, too, ended up in prison. Tim, who had never been the brightest, didn’t notice. “Where is Stiles now?” Peter asked lowly.

“Why? It’s a place a few towns over...Pine View, Pine Hill, something like that. Dad had to take him out of county ‘cause too many people around here were causing trouble, trying to get custody of the kid or whatever. I don't even know how many favors Dad had to call in to get everybody off his back.”

Tim started chatting about everything that had happened to him in the last few years, but Peter was already walking out the door.

<> <>

Getting Stiles out of the correctional facility would actually be the easy part. As Stiles’s acknowledged mate, Peter should have been notified as next of kin when his parents died.

Peter wasn't sure if Tim’s father had thought that he was doing the Hales a favor by taking Stiles in—Peter _had_ publicly denounced the younger boy more than once—but the wolf suspected that the councilman had just wanted to use Stiles to further his position in the community. The boy had obviously been unwilling to give the man what he wanted, and had suffered for it.

The truth was, regardless of Peter’s feelings on the matter, the Hales would have taken Stiles in a heartbeat. In fact, Peter knew that even the Stilinskis’ will had mentioned the Hales, so it was highly suspicious that they had never even been contacted.

That was a problem for later. Now, Peter had the sordid task of telling his family the disturbing news and dealing with the fallout undoubtedly headed his way.

<> <>

Evidently, there was no time for railing against Peter, because as soon as the family heard the situation they jumped into action. Over the next week, Laura and Derek made up a room for Stiles, Talia threatened to rip any number of heads off, and Peter’s parents assembled a veritable army of lawyers and packed up the rest of the family to head back to Beacon Hills. There was also talk of doctors, psychologists, and tutors for any schooling Stiles might have missed, while the younger set suggested cake and a bouncy house to make him feel better.

The Pine Valley Correctional Institute was every bit as repulsive as Peter had expected it to be. He had had multiple conversations with its staff over the past week and was utterly unimpressed with everything about them. After he had taken care of Stiles, in fact, Mother's legion of lawyers was going to take great joy in shutting the place down. Unfortunately, up until he had literally walked in the door, he had no real understanding of how reprehensibly these people treated their charges.

Not even ten minutes in the building and he wanted to burn the place to the ground. If they had done anything irreversible to Stiles, it was highly unlikely that any of them would live out the year.

Furthermore, if this woman didn't stop yammering at him soon, she likely wouldn't live out the day.

“Are you sure you want to take him?” she asked for the third time in ten minutes. “It's our job here to manage dangerous powers here, and Stilinski is...rather unstable.”

“I assure you,” Peter said, barely holding back the sneer, “that my family is quite capable of caring for him.”

“Just know that you're responsible for any crimes that he commits while in your custody.”

“Crimes?” his mother asked coolly, grabbing at her son’s elbow to keep him from lunging at the woman.

“He assaulted his foster father and traumatized his foster brother, not to mention terrorizing the staff here.”

Actually, Peter had seen both the police and the hospital reports on both Stiles and the other man, and Stiles had been in far worse shape than the councilman. As for Tim being traumatized? Utter drivel.

And the claim of terrorizing the staff was more likely a combination of jealousy and ignorance on the part of the adults.

Unconcerned with the warning, Peter bared his teeth at the woman to get her moving. “Take me to my soulmate. Now!” he snarled.

<> <>

The man that came to lead them to Stiles’s room was only slightly less irritating than the woman in reception. He obviously knew that they were werewolves and understood about soulmates because aside from a light scoff when he saw Stiles’s name on the checkout forms, he made no attempts at conversation as he led them through the building.

It took ages to move through the maze of hallways, despite the building’s size, and both Hales could hear the sounds of the unhappy residents behind the closed doors they passed, interspersed with the occasional cry for help as they moved from one ward to another.

Stiles’s ward, however, was deathly quiet.

“Don’t be surprised if he doesn't know you at first,” the orderly warned, stopping in front of a door that contained someone with a too-slow heartbeat. “The cuffs make them a little foggy sometimes.”

The wolves exchanged a displeased look. “Why is he bound while inside a locked, magic-proofed room?” Mrs. Hale asked.

The man offered them a bland smile. “Standard procedure when someone is incarcerated for using magic.”

“Stiles’s uncontrollable magic has been the explanation for many things,” Peter said lightly, muscles already bunched to jump into the room as soon as the orderly left, “and yet no one has been able to tell us exactly what it is that he does. Why is that?”

“Anything that he came in with was burned,” the man said flatly, ignoring the question, “so he has no personal effects.” He unlocked the door and stepped aside. “You can find your own way out, I imagine. Don't take the cuffs off until you’re off hospital property, or you’ll be held responsible for any damages.”

“It's funny that they seem to think that Stiles is the one they need to worry about,” Peter murmured into the hush as he pushed open the door, “although I'm not one to deny the man revenge if he wants it.”

Stiles looked awful. Neither wolf gasped, but it was a close thing. The young man sat quietly on the bed, pain-glazed eyes staring blankly into the distance. His hands were almost bloodless with the tightness of the binding cuffs, and his veins pulsed prominently as the magic raged under his skin, unable to find an outlet.

In an instant, the Hale matriarch was on her knees in front of Stiles, ripping away at the cuffs regardless of regulation. Neither Hale would object in the slightest if Stiles started trouble on their way out of this hellhole, and were fully prepared in case the young man accidentally lashed out at them.

“You're okay, you're safe,” she crooned softly as she checked the human over. She was obviously furious, but she let none of that leak into her voice as she spoke to Stiles.

Peter was still trying to decide whether it would be better to lead the other man out or gather him into his arms when Stiles gave a little jerk, as if startled awake. His eyes were still hazy, but his gaze swept the room until it landed on the Hales.

“Am I dreaming?” he asked muzzily. He reached out, shakily, only to let out a small, pleased noise when he actually touched Peter.

“We’re real,” the wolf assured him.

Stiles nodded, but fell quiet while Peter helped him to his feet. He stayed silent as they maneuvered him around the tiny room and into the hallway. He watched the wolves carefully, as if he expected them to disappear, and Peter cursed under his breath for failing his soulmate so badly.

“I’m not sorry,” Stiles mumbled, startling his companions.

“For what, darling?” The Hales moved to bracket Stiles as they walked the halls, neither entirely trusting the staff to let them walk out unimpeded. It was the kind of thing that Stiles would have bristled at before and it made Peter immeasurably angry that Stiles said nothing against it now.

“I only hurt people who deserve it.”

It was only because they were family that Peter noticed the minute stutter in his mother’s stride, and he, too, felt his heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest. If Stiles decided that _they_ deserved his vengeance—

“Let’s get home, shall we?” he said, a little too tightly, not that Stiles seemed to notice.

Stiles said nothing as they left the building, or in the car on the way to Beacon Hills. Two days later, Stiles still looked exhausted, but his eyes were clear.

By the end of the week, Stiles still hadn't said more than twenty words to the people around him, but everyone saw the small smile on his face when the story of the mysterious fire in the staff wing at Pine Valley came on the news.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s two! Tomorrow’s an Avengers day, and then the last story in this series will be posted on Tuesday.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
